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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934767">sold my soul to a three-piece</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), M/M, idk when this takes place so use your imagination, jon being ooc quiet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A performance review is integral to all functional work environments, beneficial to both employee and manager alike.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sold my soul to a three-piece</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Jon, I'd like for you to get on your knees, please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The intonation was pleasant enough, as though Elias was merely requesting some benign administrative favour, but Jon caught the hint of command buried in the polite supplication. There would be no question of refuting the statement, if Jon had any mind to do so. Rather, he lowered himself to the ground deliberately, not moving his stare from Elias's cool gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd like to make it clear that there is nothing compelling you to obey me," Elias went on, still with that implacably professional tone, saccharine without condescension. "Your own free will is all that's at play. And I do believe you're quite happy to follow my instructions."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon opted not to respond. Elias needed no confirmation that his presumptions were correct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've been fairly good at that thus far." Elias's slender fingers moved to his belt buckle, undoing it with deft calm. "But, as with every circumstance in this life, there are always areas in which you can improve."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This sounds more like a performance review," Jon said. It was meant to be a wry joke, but there was no making light of the moment. It all felt so excruciatingly serious, too important for irreverence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I suppose it is, in a way," Elias replied with what might have been a fraction of a chuckle. His trousers were undone now, shoved down his hips enough for clear access to his pants. Plain white briefs, of course, as fit and utilitarian as his tailored suits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon paid little mind to the garment and more attention to the erection at his eye level. Despite himself, and the tiny voice within his mind chastising him for his weakness, he knew it would be wiser to wait for Elias to set the pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look at me, Jon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked up. Elias was observing him with a patronising expression that was undercut by carnal hunger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you ever sucked a cock before?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon felt the blush coming on as a response caught in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Elias mused. "No, you haven't. I would know if you had. No matter. I imagine, with your stellar progress lately... you'll pick it up quick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the next moment he had hooked his thumbs around the waist of his pants and pulled them down, uncovering his erection. He took it in one hand while the other moved to stroke through Jon's hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go ahead, Jon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon couldn't allow himself to think before following the order, instead choosing to pretend for a moment that he was being called upon to wrap his lips around the head of Elias's cock, compelled to take the shaft in his hand and stroke methodically in time with his own mouth's movements. It was easier to lose himself to the wet exploration by his tongue when he could imagine that the power of the Ceaseless Watcher was what drove him forward, rather than his own longing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no experience with the act, and yet the tightening grasp of Elias's fingers on his scalp indicated that Jon was performing well. He borrowed knowledge from the omnipresent amalgam of a thousand archived experiences, coordinating every dip and caress, carrying Elias nearer to climax with every guided impulse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon didn't need to hear the sharpened breaths, to feel the abrupt thrusting motions toward his throat, to physically see the contortion of Elias's brow into a repressed gesture of ecstasy. Instead he could See the nervous system set alight, the pulsating tide of pleasure that rose within his subject, the heat of power and control. Because Elias was the one in control, even while lost to the vulnerability of gratification at Jon's mercy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no doubt that Elias wouldn't have needed to compel Jon to his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias came in an abrupt motion, as perfunctory as his clipped communication. Efficient and pragmatic; two valuable characteristics in an employer. The instant Jon had swallowed the mess and removed his mouth from Elias's cock, Elias had begun to redress himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excellent work," he was saying, infuriatingly unflappable even seconds after orgasm. "I'd say we should, ah, touch base shortly, see how you're progressing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon remained on the floor as Elias finished buckling his belt, watching his every motion. He could still taste Elias on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please don't get too sentimental," Elias said, and Jon was unsure if the statement was apropos of nothing or based upon a quick peek into his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias returned to the chair behind his desk and took a seat. "You may go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon had half a mind to refuse, though for what reason he didn't precisely know. Pure obstinacy perhaps, in the wake of what he had done. The need to rebel in some fashion, as though it would undo the very real desire that had been the undercurrent for the entire process. But there was nothing more he could say that would curry any sort of agency at that moment. Elias had the clear upper hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he left the office, Jon resented his own thrill at the thought of acquiescing to Elias's control. It felt... too good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that might be dangerous.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sometimes you dip your toes back into vague smut while high in the middle of the night</p></blockquote></div></div>
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